


For What It's Worth

by HectorRashbaum (FifteenDozenTimes)



Category: Flogging Molly
Genre: F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-26
Updated: 2008-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:52:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/HectorRashbaum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exercise in right vs. wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For What It's Worth

This was probably what being taken advantage of felt like, except Nathen was fairly sure guys weren't supposed to feel taken advantage of when, after months of hot no-strings sex, the girl found someone else. Or got engaged to the someone else she'd had all along, whatever.

But here he was, and there Bridget was, and there was a ring on her finger and he felt distinctly...weird. Like he hadn't known there was a rug there, but he damn sure felt it get pulled out from under him.

"If it wasn't a problem when you were dating, why now?"

Bridget rolled her eyes; he probably sounded more pathetic than he intended. Whatever.

"Because he asked me to stop, and I'm not exactly about to tell my fiancé he has no right to ask me to stop sleeping around."

She was so fucking logical. How the fuck do you argue with that?

"What difference does it make, anyway? It's not as if you have any trouble getting women, Nate."

The problem with her that was the (completely and totally wrong, not fucking happening) idea that maybe it did (fuck no, of course it didn't) make a difference.

Bridget's eyes went a little wide, her mouth formed a silent 'oh'; there went that fucking rug out from under his feet again.

"It doesn't. I was just, y'know, asking," he said, but she sure as fuck didn't buy it and he wasn't entirely sure about himself.

"Right."

"So, y'know...good luck. And all." He managed a smile; she still didn't look like she bought it. "It's about fucking time, anyway."

"Right." There were a million things other than 'right' floating in her eyes, a million words far more accurate than he could handle right then. She looked at him so fucking directly he felt like he should cover up, like even his clothes weren't enough. "I - yeah. Thanks."

She kissed his cheek (felt far more like a slap than a kiss, but what-the-fuck-ever) and left.

\----------

Women were supposed to be the confusing ones - obviously, or Bridget wouldn't be there - so even though Nate had a feeling he should probably turn her down, he wanted it and she knew it, so "no" would've been too fucking mind-gamey.

Made sense, right? Right.

Even if it didn't, Bridget knew right where to flick her tongue to shut off the part of his brain responsible for rational thought.

So instead of "we probably shouldn't do this" she got "oh fuck, fuck that's - fuck", and from the way she was watching him as his dick disappeared down her throat she preferred the second one.

It did make a fucking difference, it made all the difference in the world, because in two weeks he'd found plenty of girls willing to suck his dick and none of them made his blood boil the way Bridget did. Fuck.

She stopped too soon, always stopped too fucking soon, laughing at the whiny noise he made when she pulled her mouth off him with a wet pop. She crawled up to kiss him, hard; all the places where her skin brushed his caught on fire and from the way she wriggled and squirmed against him he had the same effect on her.

"Fuck me, Nate," she pulled away from his lips enough to beg, and goddamn but she had such a sweet voice it was always just a little wrong - in the best fucking way - to hear that sweetness begging for a good fuck.

And Nate couldn't deny her anything, not that he'd want to, so he rolled her over and rubbed the head of his cock against her slit; the way she moaned and arched against him fucking killed him - in the best way possible.

She gasped when he pushed in, clutched at his arms and tried to force her hips down to take more in. And apparently he _could_ deny her, because he didn't pick up the pace, wanted to savor every goddamn second of her hot, slick pussy taking him in.

"Oh dammit, Nate, just - oh _fuck_." Her nipple pebbled against his tongue; she shivered when he wrapped his lips around and sucked just-this-side-of too hard. She wrapped her legs around his waist and forced him the rest of the way in, and sweet shy demure Bridget forcing him to do it her way was almost more of a turn-on than the sensation of muscles clenching around his dick.

Whatever she was about to say was lost in a yelp when he closed his teeth on her nipple, nails dug into his back as he gave it a light tug and moved on to the other one, slamming his hips against hers the whole time. She wrapped around him, engulfed him, the feel and the taste of her, the way she was trying to beg him but couldn't form coherent sounds were killing him, firing through his veins, his dick throbbed and if he lasted long enough to get her off it'd be a miracle.

Miracles apparently happen; another nip and a tug on her nipple and she cried out, legs tightening until his back was about to snap under the pressure and her muscles clenched around him, hips bucked and nails drew blood and another cry knocked him over the edge and all he could see were sparks as it hit him like a wall of bricks.

When she relaxed enough to lower her legs he pulled out and rolled over, blinked away the end of the sparks and tried like Hell to catch his breath.

"We shouldn't have done that," she said, so quietly he thought for a second he should pretend he hadn't heard her.

"Yeah, well I'm not the one who showed up at your door in a fucking nightshirt asking for it."

"I didn't say it was your fault. We just...shouldn't have."

"No more?"

Bridget looked at him, ran her eyes over him and back up to actually meet his gaze. "No more," she agreed, and got up, tugged her shirt on, and left.

\----------

Nate wasn't entirely surprised when the knock that interrupted his pointless attempt to sleep a couple weeks later turned out to be Bridget. At least she'd bothered to put on pants.

"Couldn't sleep."

Nate just nodded and let her in, sliding the deadbolt back into place behind her.

"And you're, y'know, usually such a night owl I figured it didn't make any sense to just lie in bed awake when you could keep me company, and - "

"That's not why you're here, and you know it."

Bridget dropped her eyes, studied the pattern on the floor. "No, it's not."

"And you shouldn't be here."

"I know, I just...I know."

She took a step forward but didn't look up, another step with her eyes still on the floor, on like that until she was so close he could feel her body heat and then she looked up so she could kiss him, wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him with just enough need to make him moan and slide his arms around her waist.

There was something else there, though, or something missing - whatever the fuck it was something was different and not in the good way, and Nate pulled back long before he usually did.

"Nate - "

"You shouldn't be here."

"I know." She leaned forward to kiss him again but he pulled back, whichever little part of him still had a conscience screaming louder than the rest of him that just wanted to throw her down on the bed.

"You should go, Bridget. This isn't fair."

"I don't want to," she said, but when he dropped his arms she dropped her and stepped back.

"I don't want you to."

Bridget just nodded; Nate didn't look as she undid the deadbolt and went back to Dave.


End file.
